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“Yep. That, and other things.”
The idea of her going out with some faceless dude didn’t sit well with him. The frustration was the same as if he’d just blown a game-winning pass. “What kind of other things?”
“Yoga. Hair. Dancing.” She laughed and held her hand out. “Anything, really. Everything. I want to do it all.”
He eyed her hand. It was so small and dainty. He wanted to find the man who had held that hand, who had broken her heart and then let go of her, and tell him he was a fool. If he were any other man, if he actually wanted to be with someone in the way she deserved, he’d grab that hand right now and hold on as tightly as he could, and he’d never stop. Any man that was lucky enough to call her his should never let go.
Too bad that man couldn’t be him.
Chapter Six
Wyatt Hamilton was in her living room, talking with her about things she normally had to buy a magazine to read about, and he seemed completely content to be doing so, and not even the slightest bit bored with her and her tiny home and sad stories about her ex and her inability to live her life to its fullest.
What was happening?
Who was she?
“I hope you get all those things,” he said after a short period of silence. “You deserve them, and you deserve more than that man gave you.”
She smiled. What did one say to that? She had no idea, so she settled for: “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” He drank his champagne, studying her living room. “Nice place you have here.”
“Thanks.” Ugh. She sounded like a broken record now. She tried to think of something witty to say, when all she could think was Oh my God, Wyatt Hamilton’s thigh is touching my knee! She told herself to pull it together, and said, “You’re so hot.”
Well. That was a fail.
Way to go, Kassidy.
He choked on his drink, coughing.
She patted him on the back, unable to ignore how hard his muscles were under her fingers. She leaned in, wincing because she’d almost killed the star quarterback of her home team with her off the wall statement. “Sorry, too much?”
“No,” he rasped. “I just…choked.”
“Like you did with the Patriots last year?”
His jaw fell, and he placed a hand on his chest. “Ouch. That hurts, Kassidy. It really hurts.”
“Sorry,” she said, not really the least bit sorry. “I was mad you lost that game. I had a bet on it.”
His eyes flashed with something that could only be described as heat. “You mean you actually bet on me sometimes?”
“Most of the time,” she admitted.
“Nice to know.” Slowly, he reached out and touched her cheek, but immediately pulled back. “I’ll try not to let you down again.”
She trembled, way too distracted by his touch to actually pay attention to his words at first. He’d touched her. Why had he touched her? “Uh…thanks.”
Broken record time again.
“And…” He smiled and shifted back, putting more distance between them. “I think you’re pretty hot, too.”
“He says as he backs away from me,” she muttered cheekily.
He laughed again. “Kassidy…”
“Sorry.” She winced because she’d basically just called him out on lying about finding her attractive for the third time. What was wrong with her? Why hadn’t he noticed she was a lost cause and left yet, just like her ex had? She refused to call him by his name. He didn’t deserve it. He was like Voldemort. His name shall never be spoken. “I’m horrible at this.”
